


A Royal Reprimand

by anonymous_moose



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, barry may have helped save the universe, but that only buys you so much leeway with a god, the poor nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 07:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_moose/pseuds/anonymous_moose
Summary: Barry has a very particular set of skills -- skills which have been a boon to his friends and family for over a century. The only problem is, in his new line of work, they're not exactly kosher.Barry sweats. Kravitz is amused. The god of death lays down the law. Theology is sometimes uncompromising.





	A Royal Reprimand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marywhale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marywhale/gifts).



> With my apologies, as she wrote this [excellent ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610022/chapters/31633173) and got this scene stuck in my head until I exorcised it. She's just that good.

Barry’s day off had been going so well, up until he stepped through a portal from the prime material plane and walked into Kravitz’s office.

His boss had a very particular design sensibility, and it was impossible to tell whether he’d always had it or whether it was, as Taako put it, “company mandated.” All around him was dark, lit only by torchlight, dim alchemical lamps or the man-sized fireplace in the back of the room, casting long shadows against stone walls upon which hung shelves of theological tomes or tapestries exalting the god of death. It was located somewhere in the depths of the Eternal Stockade. Barry hadn’t yet worked out where, exactly; he suspected that certain spatial laws were flexible in the astral plane in much the same way time was.

Kravitz was at his desk, a large and ornately carved piece of petrified wood, gray and smooth like polished stone. He looked up from whatever he was writing and smiled smugly. “Ah, Barry. Wonderful. So glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Barry said, hands in the pockets of his jeans; he wore the pitch-black robe of the reaper over them, but a suit wasn’t a required part of the ensemble. “You’re enjoying this way too much, y’know.”

“I don’t think I am,” Kravitz said, standing and walking to him with a sheet of parchment in hand. “I think I’m enjoying it exactly as much as I should be.”

Barry pouted as Kravitz handed him the sheet. “What’s this?”

“The formal request for an audience,” Kravitz said, as though it should be obvious. “I thought you might not be familiar with the words.”

Barry skimmed it. Considering what he knew about theology and the divine on Faerun (which wasn’t much) it seemed remarkably short and to the point. “So I just… say this? With the feathers out?”

“Arranged into a circle, points outward.”

“Right. Then what?”

“Then you start explaining exactly what was in your basement,” Kravitz said lightly.

Barry sighed. “Again, really not cool with how much you’re liking this.”

“What can I say? I’m petty.” Kravitz turned and materialized his scythe into his hand, casually carving open a portal. “I’m going to go enjoy my day off. Call when you’re done. I want to hear all about it.”

With a pat of Barry’s shoulder and a self-satisfied grin, Kravitz vanished into the tear in space. It closed behind him smoothly.

Barry stared at the note in his hand, mouthing the words as he pulled five black feathers from his back pocket. He arranged them in the manner Kravitz had taught him when he’d first got the job, and knelt before them. After a moment to steady his breathing, Barry read from the sheet.

“I, a faithful servant of Her Eternal Majesty, do hereby request an audience at Her pleasure. Let Her gaze fall upon me, and Her ear bend toward me, that She might hear my plea and grant me counsel.”

Barry waited. Nothing happened. His hand hovered over the circle of feathers. He cleared his throat nervously.

“Uh. Please?”

It happened so gradually Barry took a second to notice. Everything around him began to dim and darken, and at first he thought it was the lights, but the torches and lamps were still burning strong. No, it was the whole world growing darker, save for Barry himself: he could still see his hand over the feathers, and the words on the parchment were bright and clear as day.

Then, like a theatre production, the lights came back up. And Barry was elsewhere.

He was in a great chamber with a solid stone floor. Stretching out in every direction were monumental pillars rising towards a ceiling he couldn’t see, carved in an incomprehensible script that Barry was sure he could spend decades trying to decipher. Torches of blue flame hung at regular intervals, smokeless and silent, and the strange luminescent insects Kravitz had called “pyreflies” flew gently from pillar to pillar and flame to flame. It was oddly peaceful, in the same way a well-kept cemetery or tomb was peaceful.

Barry gathered up the feathers at his feet and stuffed them back in his pocket along with the parchment. He looked around and saw no one else.

“Uh. Hello?”

He heard her before he saw her – the sharp click of heels on stone. Barry turned to face them, and saw the dark parting like a curtain before her.

The Raven Queen took the form of a woman, built lean with impossibly long limbs and dark hair, wearing the mask of a bird and a dress that billowed about her ankles like smoke. She was at least twelve feet tall, and she moved with purpose, her hands clasped by her waist and her posture regal. Barry assumed this was not her true form, that she took it to converse with simpler beings, but even so he found it hard to look at her for too long.

Barry had only met the Raven Queen once, shortly after the Day of Story and Song. It was in this same place, what Kravitz said was where she conducted her business, that he and Lup had been formally pardoned for their so-called sins in exchange for accepting the Raven Queen’s offer of employment. Barry got the impression that this was both unprecedented and extremely generous, and the both of them had been very grateful.

This time, Barry got the feeling he wasn’t going to get off quite so easy.

He knelt before her, because he assumed he should. The Queen seemed amused by this.

“Rise, Barold,” she said in an odd, echoing voice. “You wished to speak with me?”

“I did, ma’am. Queen,” Barry quickly corrected. “Your, uh. Royal Majesty.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “About what, my child?”

And as he opened his mouth, Barry realized in that moment exactly what he was going to be confessing, and to whom. He figured he had some leeway, what with helping save the multiverse, but now standing before a literal god, he remembered just how stark and uncompromising theology could be.

“Go on, Barold,” the Queen prompted. “What have you come to say to me?”

“I-I don’t want to take up a ton of your time,” Barry said. “I mean, I’m sure it’s more valuable than mine, after all, so… I guess I should just come out and say it, probably not a good way to say it, really–”

Barry caught the gaze of her mask and his words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard.

“I’ve… well, I’ve been doing some… research. In my spare time. Off the clock. To try and help out, mostly, y’know, prediction and analysis type stuff. But… also for… fun. I guess.”

The Raven Queen said nothing. Barry wrung his hands together and avoided her glassy masked eyes.

“I’m not hurting anybody,” he said quickly. “I would never do that, that’s not – I’m not wired that way. It’s just science, it’s – it’s understanding. You have to know your enemy, right? And, uh, what I’m saying is…” He sighed heavily. “I’ve been doing some minor necromantic research in my basement and I thought you should know.”

The Raven Queen stepped forward. Barry fought the impulse to step back, remaining where he stood. She bent down and ran her long-fingered hand across his head.

“Oh, my dear child,” the Raven Queen said with a chuckle. “I’ve known from the start.”

Barry jerked his head up. “You did?”

“Of course. Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“Uh-”

“Which means you lied to me.” She removed her hand from his head and stood straight. “You clearly didn’t think I should know.”

Barry’s eyes widened. “M-Ma’am, I–”

The furthest torches winked out in the distance. Then the second furthest, then the third. The dark encroached in waves, descending inward until all light was extinguished save for the blue of the dancing pyreflies.

Barry felt more than saw the Raven Queen change before him. Her presence was suddenly larger, broader, encompassing all in front of him. In the dim light, he saw only the oil-slick shine of feathers, and the glimmer of eyes in places eyes shouldn’t be. A colossal raven’s head descended to his eye level, and even more than before Barry flinched away from her gaze.

“I am Your Majesty,” she said darkly, in a choir of voices old and young. “And you will not speak unless spoken to.”

Barry swallowed again, though his throat was dry. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

He felt something heavy alight on his shoulder -- a great taloned hand with an uneven number of digits. It began to squeeze.

“You should kneel, Barold.”

Instantly, Barry dropped to one knee, his hands clasped. The claw remained, its grip tight and firm, talons poking through his robe.

“Do you remember the oath you swore to me, Barold?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Repeat it.”

Barry fought to slow his breathing – it wouldn’t do to hyperventilate in front of his boss who was also a god – and began to recite what Kravitz had made him commit to memory that fateful day.

“I pledge my undying fealty to the Raven Queen and the Twilight Court. I swear to uphold her laws as my laws, to love all that she loves and spurn that which transgresses against her. I vow to shepherd the dead to their rightful resting place in her bosom, and bring to her embrace those who flee from her, until she can bear my absence no longer and I follow those I have led to the endless sea of life after life. Amen.”

“Do you know what fealty means, Barold?” the Queen asked, her many voices pressing in on him from all sides.

“Loyalty,” he croaked. “Obedience.”

“Do you believe the ends justify the means, Barold?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No, ma– Your Majesty.”

The raven’s head lowered further, drew closer. He heard a beak click menacingly by his ear.

“Do you understand why I am upset?” she hissed.

Barry nodded quickly and kept his head low, staring at the ground. The raven’s head pulled away, and he exhaled sharply. In his periphery, black taloned feet the size of wagons clicked against the stone.

“Repeat the words you spoke to me,” the Raven Queen commanded.

He tried to speak and found his throat dry. He cleared it. “I pledge my undying fealty to the Raven Queen and the Twilight Court. I swear to uphold her laws as my laws, to love all that she loves and spurn that which transgresses against her. I vow—"

“Again.”

“I pledge my undying fealty to the Raven Queen and the Twilight Court. I swear to uphold her laws as my laws, to love—”

“Again.”

“I pledge my undying fealty to the Raven Queen—”

One giant foot slammed down. The ground shook, and Barry flinched as the sound echoed into the distance.

“Do try and remember them, child,” the Raven Queen said, her voices dripping with regal malice. “Because this is the last time I will have you repeat them.”

Slowly, the Raven Queen’s presence shrank and fell away. The light began to return. Torches flickered to life in the distance, layer by layer, until all were lit once again. When he looked up, he saw a woman again, tall and austere in her black raven mask. When she spoke again, she spoke with one voice, clear and commanding.

“You will cease all experiments that are not in direct service of continuing my good works,” she said, bringing her hands together and steepling her fingers. “I trust I’ve made myself clear.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Barry said quickly, ducking his head. “Extremely clear.”

“Good. You may rise, Barold.”

He stood and wiped some sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his robe. His mouth was dry and his heart was hammering in his chest, but Barry was pretty sure he wasn’t about to be destroyed. That gave him some measure of comfort.

The Raven Queen regarded him a moment, then turned and began to walk away. Barry breathed deep and took off his glasses to clean them; they’d fogged up something fierce.

He was startled when she spoke again.

“Do not mistake me for ungrateful, Barold J. Bluejeans,” she said, tone impossible to read. “I owe you and the others no less than any other being in this universe. It is a debt that can never truly be repaid.”

The pyreflies danced around her, gathering in a gently glowing swarm.

“But sin is sin,” she said, slow and deliberate. “And I will only pardon so much.”

Before Barry could say anything in response, the pyreflies closed in, covering every inch of her. When the swarm broke apart, the Raven Queen had vanished.

In the distance, the furthest torches winked out. Then the second furthest, then the third. The void closed in once again, and Barry felt himself falling, suddenly and violently–

He landed flat on his back, staring at his kitchen ceiling.

“Oh, hey babe.”

Lup leaned into his field of vision, wearing her favorite pajamas and eating a spoonful of a peanut butter straight from the jar. “How’d it go?” she asked.

Barry held up a hand. Lup scooped some more peanut butter and gave him the spoon. He chewed thoughtfully.

“Coulda gone better,” he said finally. “But also? Coulda gone a whole lot worse.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel like prodding me to write more weird eldritch nonsense? Hit me up on tumblr [@mystery-moose!](http://mystery-moose.tumblr.com/)


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